I Will Come With the Sun
by Silvertine
Summary: Bergil, son of Beregond, has waited so long for Pippin to return to Minas Tirith... (takes place post-RotK)


- I Will Come With the Sun -  
or  
- Anorien -  
  
By Tippy  
  
- A/N: Bergil is Beregond's son, and we see just a small piece of him in RotK. I liked him - he was impertinent and loyal, and above all - he was very brave.  
I also liked the brief glimpse of the friendship we saw between Bergil and Pippin, and I sorta wanted to elaborate on that...  
  
- - - - - - - -  
  
Bergil, son of the late Beregond, sat upon a high wall near the Lampwright's Street, gazing at the rising sun.   
  
His slender shoulders rose and fell as he breathed, savouring the beauty of the warm, citrus-coloured dawn, and recalling many things from his past.  
Some things were good, and pleasing to remember, but other things were like opening newly-healed wounds.  
And then came a memory that compromised both the fair and the foul - which was of the halfling Peregrin Took.  
  
Bergil had been ten when he'd met Pippin, and though the age gap had been large, the two had become close friends in the span of a few short hours. Then, of course, during the battles and fighting around Minas Tirith, Bergil and Peregrin had lost track of each other - both fearing that the other might be hurt. But such was not the case.  
They met again, afterwards, though only for a day. And then Pippin had set out again to do MORE battling, but now in the direction of Mordor.  
This had frightened Bergil once more - perhaps he would never see his friend again. And lo! Pippin returned, while not unscathed, but the two were very happy to see one another.  
  
Several months of bliss - mostly encompassing play swordfighting, running after each other down the streets of Minas Tirith, and exploring the fields and vales around the fair city - followed the demise of Sauron and the Ring, but Bergil feared that Peregrin would have to leave...  
  
- Flashback -  
  
The sun was warm and bright, as Bergil and Peregrin lay side by side in the courtyard of the Old Guesthouse, cloud-gazing.  
  
"That one looks like a toad." Bergil remarked, pointing up at a particularly thick, round-ish cloud.  
  
"No, it looks more like the herb-master at the Houses of Healing." Pippin replied.  
  
There was a silence, and then the two broke out into loud laughter, oblivious of the stares passer-bys were giving them.  
  
Peregrin propped himself onto one elbow, gazing down at his friend. Bergil's grey-blue eyes were fixed onto the drifting clouds above, and his arms were folded behind his head.  
  
"Bergil," Pippin said slowly, gently prodding at a stone with a small twig. "Bergil, I've just realised that you are probably one of my best friends, next to Merry. But..." The hobbit faltered, now clutching the twig tightly.  
  
"But what?" Bergil asked, feeling too warm and sleepy to be alarmed about anything.  
  
"But I am leaving. I am going back to the Shire... well, tomorrow."  
  
Bergil suddenly sat up, a leaf stuck in his short, light brown hair. "You can't be serious! Oh Peregrin, you're joking, right?"  
  
Pippin dropped his gaze, afraid to look into Bergil's intense, sea-coloured eyes.  
  
"No, Bergil, I do _not_ jest with you. Though a if it *were* a jest, it would be anything but funny. The summer is waning, and so many of us are going to leave. Lord Aragorn and Queen Arwen are coming with us a for a little way though, I've heard."  
  
Bergil slowly shook his head. "Peregrin, why can't you *stay*?! Stay here with me! And we'll remain friends for as long as we live! We'll never have to be separated ever again, for any time long or short!"  
  
"I should like to stay, but my home is in the Shire." Pippin blinked rapidly to hold back the inevitable, but it hurt him to see Bergil's eyes glittering with tears.  
  
"I... I understand. But you will come back, right?"  
  
Pippin stood up, and held out his hand to Bergil. "Of course I shall come back."  
  
The day passed quickly, and Bergil attempted to spend as much time with his halfling friend as possible. They explored old haunts, and ate their favourite foods, and often would catch one another staring at the other, trying to memorize their features.  
  
But the next day dawned fair and bright, though rain and clouds would have better suited the mood, Bergil thought.  
The procession of those leaving Minas Tirith were assembling, with Peregrin riding alongside Gandalf. Bergil stood beside his friend, being jostled in the crowd.  
  
"Pippin," He said sadly. "Pippin, you are my best friend, and I never want you to forget that! You are truly as they say - Emin i Pheriannath - Prince of the Halflings."  
  
Peregrin shook his head, his eyes dull. "No, no. I am anything but a prince, but I will say that indeed, you are one of my best friends, Bergil."  
  
Human and halfling clasped hands, and Bergil found a silent tear traveling down his cheek. "Do not forget me, Peregrin."  
  
"I will do no such thing." The hobbit replied, tears also in his eyes. "But wait for me to return and see you once more, Bergil. I will come with the sun."  
  
After a few minutes, the procession readied themselves to begin their journey. Bergil said several other good-byes, and then found himself running towards the first wall of the city. He clambered up stone steps until he reached the top of the wall, then he stood upon it, watching the procession move below like countless ants.  
  
Even Bergil's keen eyes could not pick out his halfling friend, yet he raised his hand in silent farewell, anyway.  
  
"Come back swiftly, Peregrin." The boy said quietly. "For I will watch the sun rise every morning, until I see you return with the rays of dawn."  
  
- End Flashback -  
  
Seventeen-year old Bergil let out a long breath, stretching his arms. It had been a beautiful sunrise, like the countless ones before it. And probably like the countless ones yet to come.  
  
The young man slowly got to his feet, brushing dust off of himself, and grabbing the silvery helmet beside him. He was one of the Tower Guard, but was currently off duty - although it was a strict policy that Tower Guards should always carry their helmets around with them.  
  
He decided to go and have breakfast with old Ioreth, whom he'd become fast friends with after Peregrin had left, so many years ago.  
  
Peregrin...  
  
Bergil sighed, shaking his head. He could still clearly picture the halfling in his mind - four feet tall, with curly dark reddish-brown hair, warm brown eyes, a thin face, and a pointed nose. Pippin had always appeared to be so mischievous, but was more than anything a kind-hearted being filled with mirth and happiness.  
  
Turning to give the rising sun one final glance, Bergil's keen eyes suddenly spotted movement in the Pelennor fields - a horse and rider, heading towards the city. This wasn't a terribly odd thing to see - visitors were often coming to Minas Tirith - but the strange thing was that the rider was, well, _small in stature_.   
  
A small flicker of hope came to Bergil as he shaded his eyes with one hand, watching the horse and rider draw nearer.  
  
Could it be...? After all these years...?  
  
Quickly, Bergil clambered down the wall - but stumbled the last few feet. He hit the earth hard, his hands cushioning some of the fall, and as he turned them round he saw his palms were bleeding.  
  
He winced, but got to his feet and began to sprint down the Lampwright's street. It was a long, narrow, winding lane with many merchants who sold candles, lanterns, and the like. Bergil paid not attention to this though, as he flew past various people without a glance.  
  
After a time, he drew near the entrance to the first wall of Minas Tirith.  
  
"Hail, Bergil!" A voice suddenly called out. The young man stopped quickly, sliding somewhat on the paved stones.  
He turned, then spotted one of his fellow Tower Guard - a man by the name of Rarofond, who was currently on duty.  
  
Bergil's eyes strayed to the city gates - powerful ones, made of mithril and inlaid with other precious metals - which stood open, greeting the dawn.  
"I apologize, my friend, but I have no time to stop and talk. Someone once dear to me has come to the city! In fact, he has just arrived now--"  
  
"...Bergil?" A hesitant voice interrupted from behind the two men. "Bergil, is that you?"  
  
Bergil slowly turned, almost afraid, in a way.  
And there, standing before him in weathered traveling clothes... there was Peregrin Took.  
  
"Peregrin!" Bergil exclaimed, then faltered. He knew not what to say, for it had been many years since he had seen the halfling.  
  
"Oh, Bergil... I know it was you when I saw you. You have scarcely changed in seven years, and yet I can see you are a man, now." Pippin said softly, a small smile on his face. His hands hung limply at his sides, and he paused. "By the Valar, what am I *doing*?! I have returned to one of my best friends!!"  
  
With that, the hobbit moved forward and threw his arms tightly around Bergil, who returned the embrace. It did not look *too* odd, as Pippin was four feet tall, and Bergil was around one and three quarters feet taller.   
  
It looked, in fact, like two long-lost friends meeting one another after being separated for far too many years.  
  
"Peregrin, Peregrin..." Bergil said softly, finally drawing back. "How I have missed you! And how I doubted that you *would* come back, like you promised! But I waited... every day, Peregrin, I watched the sun rise and looked for you in the horizon. And today - you came!"  
  
"Yes." Pippin replied. "I have come with the sun, as I said I would."  
  
And that, my friends, is the end of this little tale, but not of Bergil and Peregrin's friendship. For many years passed after that, and it is said that when Peregrin was very old and near death, he rode to Minas Tirith, and there - with Bergil - he lived the last of his days.  
  
- - - - - - - - -  
  
Considering that I don't even *like* Pippin, this was kind of a weird fic to write. But it's a present for my best friend Sara, since Peregrin is her favourite character. So... yeah. *scampers off to watch Flipper* 


End file.
